


A Sickly fledgling

by orphan_account



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: 90'S, Bisexual Male Character, Coming Out, Gay Male Character, Gen, Sick Character, Sick Fic, Unrequited Crush, take's place during the chuck Dixon run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 02:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18401036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tim think's he can train through his cold, Dick disagrees and decides he has to take care of the robin while he's ill.





	A Sickly fledgling

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning for vaguely implied child neglect on behalf of Jackson Drake, being like that.   
> In case you didn't catch the tag this takes place in the 90's during the Chuck Dixon robin solo series (fuck you Chuck Dixon, you comic-gate bastard.) because that's just my favorite Timeline to put Tim in.

Tim woke up with a pounding in his skull and a numb sensation all across his body, instead of the usual aches that came after a night on the street. Not good. The teen-hero glanced at his nightstand, neon numbers glared angrily at him. 5:30am, on a  _ sunday _ . Absolutely uncalled for, Tim thought as he sniffled. He must have caught something on patrol last night, he groaned to himself, in annoyance. The boy groaned and peeled himself out of bed, he had training with Dick at 10am and he wasn’t gonna miss it because of a common cold. Hell, he wouldn’t miss getting to train with Dick Grayson, if he was on his deathbed. Maybe he could just head to the manor early? Would that be rude? Maybe, he should grab some coffee and then make a call to ask. 

 

The young detective let his feet drag against the carpeting as he pulled himself though the hallway and into the kitchen, he quickly registered that his dad wasn’t up yet, not surprising, because who the hell gets up at five thirty in the morning on a _ sunday _ ? However, that did mean that Tim had to brew his own coffee. The young man groaned and rummaged through the cabinets for the instant stuff, he wasn’t dealing with grinding beans, not with the headache that was starting to build at the front of his skull. 

 

He quickly threw some water into the microwave, because he wasn’t gonna bother with the kettle this early. He shoveled twice, thrice, the recommended amount of instant cappuccino into the now hot mug of water and watched with vague horror as it turned into a unappealing sludge as he stirred, he brought the suspicious liquid to his lips and and took several large gulps, best to get it down quickly. 

 

Tim grabbed the phone from off the kitchen wall and dialed the number to Dick’s mobile phone. It rang once, twice, and then a click. 

 

“Hello?” Dick’s voice rang out from the receiver, followed by a muffled yawn, Tim hoped he hadn’t woken the older man. “Grayson speaking?” 

 

“Oh, Hey Dick, it’s Tim. I’m up early and was wondering if it would be fine for me to just head to the manor now? I didn’t really have much planned for the day.” Tim pulled away from the receiver to cough into his shoulder.

 

As he brought it back to his ear,he caught Dick’s reply, “Yeah sure, I don’t mind, I don't imagine that your dad is awake yet, do you need a ride?” asked Dick. 

 

“No, I’m good, I usually just jog to the manor or take my bike, it helps me get my cardio requirements in.” Tim smiled into the phone as he pulled another sip from his instant coffee, “You could do me a huge favor though and make me some coffee when I get there, I know Alfred doesn’t let anyone keep soda over there, so I assume I can’t get my caffeine fix from Zesti” 

 

“Sure, I think I can do that, I got to get off this call though, I forgot to charge the damn mobile, and if I miss a call from Babs, she’ll have my head.” Dick laughed before it was cut off by the dial tone. 

 

Tim sighed despairingly and slid the receiver back onto the hook, before the howler could go off, he leaned displeased against the wall. He felt like such a jackass for getting uppity every time Dick brought up Barbara, she was a wonderful team member and a nice woman, and it wasn’t at all fair that she got to eat up all of Dick’s attention. 

 

Tim marched himself back to his room and grabbed the cleanest pair of jeans he could find on the floor and slid on a black undershirt followed by a vibrant orange polo with the Gotham knights logo across it. He slipped on his shoes, lazily tying the laces before staring into his wall mirror, ugh. He looked like hell and he knew it. 

 

Oh well, it wasn’t like he had anyone to impress except, you know,  _ Dick Grayson _ and  _ The Batman _ , no biggie. Tim screamed into a pillow and then quickly pulled his face away from his bed, lest he be tempted to fall back asleep. 

 

The sidekick left a sticky-note for his dad on the stove overhead with an excuse about a study group, not that Jack would have bothered to wonder, but he figured it couldn't hurt. Tim quickly left the house, it was about five miles from Drake manor to the Wayne estate and Tim was starting to regret not accepting a ride within under a mile. 

 

The springtime pollen collected in the air as Crest-Hill’s floral increased in bloom and it did Tim no favors as he sneezed repeatedly into his shoulder. 

 

By the time Tim reached the Wayne manor he felt seconds away from collapsing, he dragged himself into the mansion and came face to chest with one Dick Grayson. 

 

“Oh I was just about to go looking around for you!” exclaimed Dick before laughing,  “was worried you managed to get lost, you took so long”

 

Dick pulled the teen into a hug before glancing down at his face, “Oh jeez, you look like hell Tim, are you sick?” 

 

Tim inwardly flinched. Having the kind-of object of your affection discredit your appearance was never a delightful feeling, “It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine, soon enough.” 

 

“Yeah, I don’t think we’re gonna be doing any training today,” mused Dick, “I’m just gonna have to take care of you instead, because you’re clearly not doing a good job at it, honestly, who walks 5 miles while sick. I don’t think we have any sheets on the guest-room’s bed right now, and I’m not facing Alfred’s scorn for messing around in the linen cabinets, so you’ll just have to sleep in my room, it’s kind of a mess, but I’m sure you’ll survive.” 

Tim felt his face flush up red and he prayed that it blended with the flush of his slightly overheated skin. 

 

It wasn’t long before Tim found himself bundled in _ Dick Grayson’s _ blankets being warned not to leave or even move a muscle while the Wayne’s ex-ward ran to get some herbal tea, “no you’re not getting coffee, you’re sick Tim,” the older man had scolded the latent request.

 

The robin in training buried his face into a soft pillow and groaned out in frustration, he couldn't believe he was in Dick’s room,  _ in his bed _ , and that he wasn’t getting his caffeine fix anytime soon. 

 

Slowly Tim felt his eyes begin to weigh down under the exhaustion and slip close. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let them rest, for just a moment. 

 

His eyes cracked back open and his vision was blurry, his skin clammy, and Dick Grayson was leaning over him, oh god, Dick was leaning over him and his face was right there and his lips were so pink and perfectly unchapped, who had unchapped lips right after winter? Dick Grayson apparently. 

 

Tim made a sound, indicating that he was choking on his own spit, as he pulled forward and awkwardly knocked his head against the other boy’s, “Ouch” 

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you, I just needed to wake you up to take your temperature, you feel like you’re burning up.” Dick groaned as he pressed the back of his hand to his now bruised head. 

 

“No, I’m sorry for the headbutting,” Tim replied, keeping his voice as low as he could, his head felt like someone had tossed some explosives inside and let them go off. 

 

Dick grabbed the thermometer from off the nightstand, where what looked like a now cold mug of tea sat, he most have nodded off for a while, “You can apologize, by opening nice and wide.” 

 

If Tim’s skin hadn’t already gone completely red, it would be for different reasons. The Drake opened his mouth and raised his tongue and tried his best to not feel awkward as Dick gracelessly tossed the thermometer into his mouth, “Now close, and leave it there for a couple minutes, I’m going to go gab a cold rag for your head.”

 

Tim sat in the bed waiting and allowed his eyes to scan across the room, the walls were painted an off blue and like the rest of the Wayne manor the floor looked to be an oak paneling, posters were hung across the walls, some clearly from when he was younger and others looked newer. Tim leaned over to the side of the bed and noisily opened the top drawer of the nightstand before imminently slamming it shut after his eyes raced over a racy magazine, he pulled it back open and glanced down at the covers of the magazines, showcasing women in athletic positions, he felt his gaze wonder further back into the drawer before his eyes widened as he spotted a magazine spine reading “mandate”, he quickly closed the dresser drawer. Maybe it belonged to Barbra, he questioned himself, before brushing off that though, didn’t girls prefer more soft-core stuff, like playgirl? Plus those mags were made expressly for queer men. Maybe Dick swung both ways? That was a thing right?

 

“Ok, Timbers, let’s see that thermostat” Dick spoke as he entered the room and Tim quickly moved his eyes away from the others. 

 

Dick sat down on the edge of the bed and plucked the thermometer from Tim’s mouth, “hah, common cold my ass, you have a fever, young man, we’re definitely cutting training from the schedule this weekend and you’re not going on patrol. You’re health has to come first!”  

 

Tim collapsed back into the bed, “You don’t have to convince me anymore, I feel horrible.” 

 

“Oh you poor thing” Dick mothered, setting the cold rag onto Tim’s forehead, “Don’t forget about the tea on the nightstand, it’ll help you feel better.” 

 

“Thank’s Dick,” Tim sighed as he felt is eyes start to flutter close again, “it means a lot.” 

 

“Well, someone has to take care of you,” Dick whispered, before pressing a small kiss to the his hair, “Get some rest Tim. It’ll do you good,”  

 

The next time that Tim woke up the curtains had been drawn shut, so as to not allow any light into the room, a mercy on his head, Tim couldn’t help but think.Though, he was feeling a little better, the detective pulled himself up and the now dry rag slipped down his face and landed in his lap. He turned towards the nightstand and tried very hard to not think about it’s contents as he reached for the tea, and god bless Dick’s soul, a couple of pain killers that sat by it. 

 

The door cracked upon as TIm chugged the cold chamomile, a line of light broke into the room before Dick’s silhouette blocked it, “Hey Timmy, supper is nearly ready if you feel like coming down, or I can bring something up for you?”

 

Tim just whined indignantly at the thought of moving from the soft mattress and blankets he had borrowed himself into for apparently most of the day.

 

Dick laughed softly, “I’ll bring you up some food, Al made his special chicken soup recipe, specifically for you. It’s great stuff, always makes me feel better, I’ll bring up some more tea too.”

 

The door was left cracked and Tim stared intently at the line of light that it let into the room, everything felt so loose and blurry. It was almost pleasant if not for the fuzzy feeling in the back of his skull and the dry mouth. 

 

Before he knew it Dick was back in the room, “whoa, when did you get here,” Tim chimed out as he looked up at the older man, his hair seemed so soft, he was holding soup. Soup sounded great to Tim.

“Wow!.” Dick laughed, it was a pretty sound. “You’re really out of it aren’t you? Am I gonna have to feed you?” 

 

“I’d like that,” Tim hummed deliriously. 

 

“Well, aren’t you spoiled, young man,” Dick snorted as he eased himself down onto the bed and held a spoonful of soup up to the boy’s mouth.  

 

Tim leaned forward and slipped his mouth around the silver and pulled the soup from the spoon, why was Alfred’s cooking so good? Tim sighed, in delight, “ I’ve never had anyone take care of me like this, you know?” 

 

Dick hummed sadly, “It’s what my mama use to do for me, I would get sick a lot when i was younger, that kind of thing just happens when you’re going around town to town, country to country, surrounded by animals and strangers all the time. She told me, ‘Dickie, we’re a family, and we have to take care of each other, because no one else will care for a gypsy, we only have each other.’, she was a beautiful women, I don’t know if you remember the way she spoke, but she always sounded so kind, like her every word was a song.” 

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pull up any bad memories,” Tim whispered, suddenly he felt very out of place in Dick’s bed, being waited on like a spoiled brat. 

 

“They’re not bad memories, Tim. They’re good ones and someone ought to take care of you,” Dick sighed pressing a kiss onto Tim’s forehead, “you’re a good lad and I wish I could take care of you all the time, you keep yourself for wound up all the time, like the world will collapse if you give yourself just a moment to relax. You’re so like Bruce sometimes that it worries me.” 

 

The spoon was pressed back against Tim’s lips, refilled with godly chicken noodle soup that Tim could only assume was the ambrosia that the Greek pantheon ate daily. The room was silent as Dick fed Tim, and before long the bowl was empty. 

 

Dick set it on the nightstand and stretched his arms above his head“ You should get more rest, Tim. I’ll wake you when you need to head home, before it gets to dark and don’t even think about denying a ride back, you’re in no condition to walk” 

 

Tim fiddled with his thumbs, watching them blur across his vision, “Hey, Dick, do you really think I’m spoiled?” 

 

Dick’s eyebrows creased, “No, I think you’ve grown up in a world where you had a lot, but that doesn’t make you spoiled. You’ve never been one to act very entitled. You don’t need to feel guilty about where I come from.” 

 

“I felt entitled enough to snoop around your room while you weren’t here,” Tim confessed, the small rational part of his brain that was drowned out by the heat of the fever yelled at to keep his mouth shut.

 

“Oh?” Laughed Dick, “I think that’s just normal teenage curiosity, Tim.”

 

Tim wondered if it was just normal teenage curiosity that made him want to run his hands through Dick’s hair and down his chest. 

 

“What did you look in?” Dick questioned, putting his hands on his hips, in a mocking fashion

 

“You’re nightstand,” Tim mumbled, hoping that his voice would be to small for the other to hear, but no such luck, as Dick’s face went almost as red as Tim’s. 

 

“Oh, well most people do have the common courtesy to keep out of nightstands, i think most people know what’s commonly kept in them.” Dick huffed, but besides being embarrassed he didn’t seem too upset about the breach of privacy. 

 

“I don’t keep that stuff in mine,” Tim defended, “I keep it under my bed, under a floor panel, with my robin outfit.”

 

Dick laughed loudly and Tim flinched at the noise, “You keep girly magazines with your robin suit, huh?” 

 

“You don't just have ‘girly’ magazines in your nightstand” Tim spoke in perhaps a too accusing tone. 

 

“Oh, you saw those, huh,” Dick said, the humor slipping from his voice, “there’s nothing wrong with being interested in men and women, Tim, and even if you’re sick I’ll kick you out my room if you’re gonna up a fuss about my sexuality.” 

 

“N-no,” stuttered Tim, “that’s not what I meant to imply, it’s just, well, i don’t have any magazine with um, women in them, That’s why I keep them with my robin suit, it’s the place my dad would be least likely to be poking around. I just, well, I’ve never met anyone else, who liked boys like that.”

 

“Oh,” Dick said, his eyes widening, he sat back down on the bed and ruffled Tim’s hair, “I’m sorry I got so defensive. I was just, well, worried. You know you can always talk to me about anything you need to Tim.” 

 

Tim, sighed and nodded his head, stopping when it felt like liquid was moving around in skull, he considered for a moment just telling Dick how he felt, but even in his sickly delirium he knew that wouldn’t be a smart idea, “Thanks, Dick.” 

Dick smiled down at him, “Now, like I said, get some more rest, I’ll be up to give you a ride home in a couple of hours.” 

 

Tim hummed in agreement as he pulled the blanket up his body and slid back down into the bed, as the he heard the door click shut the robin felt his eyes start to slide close, he couldn't help but think, maybe the world would feel just a little less stressful now. 

**Author's Note:**

> For younger audiences who might be reading this:   
> The receiver is the part of the home phone that you talk into   
> The hook is the part that you hang it on   
> The howler refers to an annoying alarm that goes off after the dial tone if you leave the receiver off the hook   
> G*psy is a slur for the Romani people, an ethnic group that Dick canonically belongs to (Unless the white washed him again during the latest reboot? I don't know.) so don't use it to refer to nomads or your Halloween costume, thanks.


End file.
